The Vampire Mission
by Jennifer Lynn Weston
Summary: Jack, James and Mare are hunting a vampire- or is it the other way around? Things get even weirder when their quarry turns out to resemble an old acquaintance. PG-13 for violence and unrequited slash. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

_xxx_

Father Palacky, hospital director at the 'Monastery of St. Agnes Na Frantiaku' in Prague, had opted to personally give his distinguished visitor a tour- said visitor being prominent London physician Dr. James L. Norrington, accompanied by his wife. Any chance of exchanging medical information with a colleague should be seized, and one must show special consideration to an Englishman who could speak fluent Czech.

The visitors weren't actually saying much as they respectfully followed the páter through the several wards and surgeries, viewing that era's usual varieties of fevers, poxes, and injured limbs. James and Meredith had learned to move easily in turn-of-the-century attire- the same garments they'd worn five weeks ago (their time) for the Paris Mission. James sported a black frock coat over an unruffled shirt, Meredith a plain dark-blue gown with a bustle- still the fashion in 1890 Bohemia. Far less conspicuous were the tiny cylinders implanted deep in their ear canals- high-tech instant translators, which gave them command of the local language. James, who'd mastered three tongues the hard way, might have felt qualms about 'cheating' if the shortcut wasn't so essential. This Mission required fluent command of Czech, in addition to the particular talents possessed by his little group.

Deciding they'd delayed long enough, James politely addressed their host. "This facility appears to be well run, Father- my compliments. But I had hoped to also observe how you handle less-routine aliments."

"Certainly, Dr. Norrington." Palacky led them to the isolation wards, where he unlocked a door to a room with a single plain bed. "We have here a quite uncommon case."

The bed was occupied by a teenage girl, hardly older than a child, looking tense and vulnerable against the pallid sheets. Tendrils of light brown hair were splayed over her pillow. Eyes of similar hue stared up, wide and frightened.

"This is Miss Anezka Novak, daughter of a wealthy mill-owner, who was assaulted on the street two nights ago. No violation of her chastity, thank the Holy Mother! But she received an unusual injury." He pointed to the stained dressing, wound loosely around the girl's neck. "The incident has been reported to the authorities, though it's unlikely they can make any arrests, since she's been unable to provide a description of her assailant."

"Where did this happen?"

"Near the Justicní Palác. That's between the Vltava River and the southern end of Petrin Park," Palacky specified for the visitor. "The girl had been visiting the park, and stayed out later than is advisable for a young woman walking alone. She should be thankful to have paid no higher price for her imprudence."

Anezka made no sound, just glanced desperately from one overhead face to another. Mare kept her expression kindly, though she was bristling within. There was no cause to talk about the patient as though she weren't in the room.

James probably felt the same way, but had to maintain the mannerisms of a clinically detached physician. He leaned closer, dispassionately eyeing the scared face. "She shows every sign of being seriously traumatized."

"That is most probably due to the bizarre nature of her injury, rather than the severity." The priest reached for neck bandage; Anezka cringed. "Hold still," Palacky ordered, pulling back the dressing to reveal the wound. There were two small matched punctures, just above the collarbone. "She claims this to be a bite, though I believe she is misremembering. Most probably she was struck with an ice pick. To judge from her pallor, there was considerable blood loss."

James and Mare cut eyes.

Palacky carefully replaced the bandage. "However it was inflicted the experience has seriously unsettled her constitution, as you can observe. It's been deemed appropriate for her to recover in seclusion, to forestall a case of full hysteria."

Norrington wondered whether the poor girl would have been afforded that consideration if she'd come from to a less prosperous family.

"With your permission, Father, I may be able to offer some small assistance." Meredith looked to James- in this day and age, any treatment proposal would have more credibility if stated by a male.

James explained. "In our London facility, we've found that women who have suffered violence at the hands of men often derive great solace in unburdening themselves to a member of their own sex, whom they view as more likely to understand and sympathize." Father Palacky looked skeptical, so James added, "Furthermore, I've a mind to tour the mental wards next, and as some of the cases there are likely to be unsuitable for a lady's viewing..."

"That is a valid concern, Doctor. Very well. Mrs. Norrington, I would require that you not wander from this room prior to our return."

"Of course, Father."

As the men left, Meredith pulled over a chair and sat, being careful to make allowances for the bustle- why women tolerated such cumbersome things for so long was a mystery to her. Giving the patient a motherly smile, she slipped a small cylinder from her reticule- one of several on her person.

"Don't be afraid, Anezka. I'm going to help you. This is a treatment we've just started to use in England. It will sting for a moment, and it may make you smell of garlic for a day, but it should help steady your constitution." She placed the compression shot against the child's arm, carefully pressed it home. / _Van Helsing should've had it this easy._ /

Anezka made a small anxious sound, though she didn't move. "There. Now you'll start to feel better," Mare assured. "Another thing that will help, will be to tell me what happened... about the man who hurt you." She started to smooth the girl's hair. "Do you remember what he looked like?"

The patient tensed. "No..."

It took only normal powers of perception, to deduce that statement was untrue. Mare coaxed gently. "Did he threaten further harm to you, if you said anything?"

"Said... he'd hurt me lots more, next time." Anezka seemed less frightened. In addition to the antidote, that shot contained a small dose of sodium thiopental, to relax the recipient's inhibitions about talking. Mare disliked using such underhanded methods, but this was an extraordinary situation. Lives, now and in the future, depended on their identifying the culprit.

"He can not harm you here, Anzee. Or inside your home. You'll be safe, so long as you don't go outside after dark for the next month. If you do that you'll never see him again." / _Not if we have anything to say about it._ / "So don't be afraid to tell me about him. Just one thing at a time. How tall was he?"

"More 'en a head over me," Anezka sighed.

Mare glanced down the bed, estimating the girl's height at about five three. "And of what coloration?" When the girl hesitated, she prompted, "Pale? Dusky? In-between?" Multiple-choice questioning was always tricky; there was risk of planting ideas. But Mare was already pretty sure what the answer to this one was.

"Real pale. Like cheese," the girl breathed.

Mare continued stroking the tangled tresses. "And what color was his hair?"

"Near white." Anezka was far more relaxed, her anxiety virtually gone.

"Did he have a beard? Or a mustache?"

"No... looked like, foreigner."

"What color were his eyes?"

"Eyes... like fish in the market."

"Could you tell their color?"

"Like a fish," Anezka repeated. "All red, like... dead fish... ne'er wanna see... eyes like that again..."

Her own orbs drooped shut, and her breathing slowed. Meredith resisted the temptation to shake her back to awareness. The poor child had been through enough.

She remained beside Anezka, caressing the wan face to forestall any nightmares. James and his guide finally returned, the former with that too-familiar tightlipped look.

Father Palacky regarded the peacefully sleeping girl with approval. "I see your efforts have indeed had a beneficial effect, Mrs. Norrington. You have my appreciation. And that of her family, I'm sure."

Mare's estimate of the páter rose a notch. His bedside manner needed work, but his concern for the patients was genuine. "You're quite welcome, Father. I'm glad I was able to help."

She made a circular gesture with her elbow. Reading it, James squared his shoulders. "We're most grateful for the tour, Father. I do have another hospital to visit, so, with your permission, we'll take our leave now."

The priest escorted them to the exit. They crossed the monastery grounds as Mare quietly made report. "Anezka responded well to the injection- I got a partial description. Our quarry is pale, blonde, around your height, and has red eyes resembling those of a dead fish."

"That should make him stand out. Good work, darling." But James' tone was dour.

She squeezed his arm. "It was bad in that mental ward?"

"Appalling." He stared over a peaceful cloister without really seeing it. "So many of those patients could have their lives turned around by ordinary anti-psychotics or sedatives. For some, a simple antibiotic would help."

"Poor James." Her husband frequently had this difficulty- always wanting to render assistance beyond the assigned ones. "It won't be much longer, historically speaking, before those medicines will become available. We both know why they can't be introduced now. So what about that threat we are here to counter?"

"No one in the mental wards sported a neck wound. When I asked the Father if he's seen any more injuries like Anezka's..."

"You asked outright?"

"I was careful to disguise my interest. In regards to a patient who attempted to bite us, I speculated that an individual with his disorder might have been responsible for Miss Novak's injury. Father Palacky replied that he doubted she was actually bitten, for human teeth leave quite different marks. When I inquired whether he's seen any other such wounds, he said he hasn't. It's possible we caught the first one. At least the first to be admitted to this hospital."

"I wonder what Jack's finding at the Jewish one?"

"We'll soon know."

They reached the monastery entrance, where a silent monk opened the gate for them. The nodded thanks as they left, proceeding to the public street.

James looked to his wrist, scowled, took out his pocket watch instead. "It's about time for you to start back to meet him. I'll join you as soon as I can." He raised a hand to signal a horse-drawn cab.

"No need to call one for me, James. I'm feeling a bit under the weather- a walk will do me good." She added, "It's only a few blocks, and it is broad daylight."

"All right. Just try to limit the unnecessary meanders." The shared a brief kiss before she glided off along the cobbled walkway.

James flagged down a cab and got in. "Charles Square Hospital, please."

x

Mare carefully set pen and inkwell at one end of the low table, before unrolling a street map in the middle. As this was a mid-priced hotel, the lobby was nothing grand, but was comfortably furnished and adequately lit. The only other occupants were a few stiff-looking gentlemen absorbed in their newspapers. She wasn't worried about anyone taking notice of her activity, for her group would be checking out tomorrow morning. On this Mission, it was advisable to change lodgings every day.

An aged waiter approached to inquire if she'd like a drink. Mare ordered a small white wine, and also asked the location of the Justicní Palác. The geezer pointed out the latter on the map. As he retreated, Mare dipped her pen and marked that locale with a round black dot.

"Should you be doin' that out in the open, lass?"

Meredith looked up to see Jack, still in his soiled laborer's attire- wrinkled shirt, stained apron, scuffed trousers and work boots. Somehow he managed to make even that ensemble look exotic.

"The lighting inside our room is woefully inadequate, it's too windy outdoors, and nobody's likely to take much notice of a hotel guest studying a city map," she explained.

Sparrow shrugged, sinking into the chair across from hers. The waiter approached with Mare's glass- Jack smoothly intercepted it, took a sip and pulled a face. "Never could abide white wine."

"They offer burgundy here, too."

"I suppose that'll have ta do. One serving of the red stuff, my good man."

The 'good man' eyed the rough-clad visitor as though he'd like to throw him out. But, as this plebeian was clearly the Lady's guest, he could only move off to fetch the requested drink.

Mare also regarded Jack sourly. "That jest was in bad taste."

"Better 'en no taste. Which, to judge from the scarcity of rum in this burg, is what Pragueians seem ta have."

"It seems our adversary has a different opinion of them." Mare got serious. "But enough joking- there's nothing funny about kids being hurt. Did you find any in your hospital?"

"Two," Jack reported somberly. "David Bezalel an' Hadar Markeles. Both young, comely, an' too insentient ta answer questions. Don't know if I'd've been allowed to ask, anyway. Hospital orderlies are expected ta be seen an' not heard. So I jus' slipped 'em theer injections an' went back ta emptying bedpans." Sparrow grimaced at the recollection. "Murphy's gonna owe me a bonus when this Mission's over!"

"Let's focus on getting that far, shall we?"

The waiter returned, set down Jack's drink without a word, then made himself scarce. As Sparrow drained the glass, Mare leaned closer.

"Did you establish where these assaults happened?"

"Aye. Managed ta charm some information out of one o' the wenches at reception. Miss Markeles has an evening job at café on Na PrÌkope Street- seems she was walkin' home from that when she got jumped. They found her jus' above the north end of Wenceslas Square, dazed an' bleedin' from the neck. The Bezalel lad was dropped off by a good samaritan who said he'd found him staggering about on the west end of the Charles Bridge. 'Tis unclear what he was doing out at that hour; the hospital only identified him 'cause one of the nurses knew his family."

Mare dipped her pen, added two ink dots to the map. She frowned thoughtfully at the results. "So that's three we know about. Two on the western bank, one on this side. None terribly far from City Center."

Jack pointed to the oldest ink dot. "Who's this?"

"Anezka Novak. We found her in the monastery hospital. Also young and pretty, and just coherent enough to give me a partial description."

"Did she say anythin' about a rusty beard?"

"No. Why?"

"Jus' that there's a bloke with that feature, on the next couch from ours, who appears ta be leanin' a bit this way."

Mare, making a pretense of straightening her hair, turned her head just far enough to get a glimpse. The 'bloke' was a hale-looking broad-shouldered Irish gent with a closely trimmed red beard, apparently absorbed in his _London Times._

"That's not the man she described- she said he was clean-shaven, blonde and pale. Anyway, our target wouldn't be out at this hour."

"He could have non-vampire spies," Jack reminded. "The rotter can't be convertin' all his entourage inta Undead; he'll need some daylight-tolerant ones ta..."

They were forestalled from further speculation as Norrington entered the lobby. His animated step told them he was bringing news.

Giving them both a nod, he pulled up a third chair, looking down at the map. "I found two," Sparrow offered.

"And I've located a fourth. A sixteen-year-old named Milos Benes. He was attacked three nights ago, while strolling the northwest quadrant of Charles Square."

Mare promptly added an ink dot. "That's also in the general vicinity of City Center."

Jack stared hard. "I've detected a more specific pattern, luv." Scraping a nail to score the paper, Jack traced straight lines from the Charles Bridge ink dot to the Justicní Palác one, then the Charles Square and Wenceslas Square marks. "Notice what shape- associated w' things unholy- these lines are on the way ta forming?"

James saw it. "A pentagon. With one missing angle. I doubt that's a coincidence."

"I doubt it, too." Mare tore a long strip from the edge off the map, folded it to form a 108 degree corner, positioned the bent strip to connect the Charles Bridge and Wenceslas Square dots. They all peered close, checking the position of the completed pentagon's fifth corner.

"The Alt-Neu Synagogue, in the Jewish Quarter," Meredith announced.

"Do ya suppose he's planning ta commit his next attack in that vicinity?" Jack inquired.

"It's as good a lead as we have. We'd better check it out tonight." Norrington had a look at his pocket watch. "We can get two hour's rest before dinner."

Mare dried her pen, looking a bit weary. "First, I need to pay a visit to the physician across the street." At James' concerned look, she assured, "It's nothing serious- just what you'd call a 'woman's complaint'. Even the doctors of this era should be able to do something for it."

"All right. We'll meet you in the hotel restaurant."

"It won't hurt us to order garlic entrees," Jack commented.

"More importantly: we must take our capsules then," Norrington reminded.

Sparrow nodded eagerly. "Always wondered what it'd be like ta see in darkness as well as a cat!"

"I shouldn't be more than half an hour, darling." Mare rose, bustle rustling, and gave James another quick kiss. As she exited through the hotel entrance, James gathered up her writing materials and map. The two men headed towards the staircase to their rooms.

The moment they were all out of sight, the 'bearded bloke' stirred. Setting aside his _Times,_ he pulled a small notebook and pencil from his pocket, and began writing.

xxx

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney_

_xxx_

Night found the three Operatives emerging from a coach at the intersection of Parizska and Cervena Streets, all in formal evening wear. Mare wore a divided skirt which allowed her to step fast, cunningly tailored to resemble a regular one. Her loose black shawl, and the men's opera capes, permitted concealment of their small crossbows. In preparation for this Mission, all three had been trained in usage of that weapon- a far safer option than any close-combat device.

As the coach moved off, they all had a look at the venerable Alt-Neu Synagogue, with it's sharply peaked facade. Not for very long, though. At this hour, the streets were a hunting ground.

James carefully studied their surroundings. The roads here were narrow and sloped, between obviously old, rather ponderous buildings. Widely spaced gas lamps reflected off abundant windows. There were no other pedestrians visible. "If our hunch is right, he'll be lying in ambush somewhere nearby. We'll cover more ground if we split up, but should stay within shouting distance of each other. Mare, Jack, you head west. I'll start north."

They started off. Sparrow was pleased to confirm the effectiveness of the night-vision capsules; he could see the scarce-lit avenues in the same detail he could at twilight. For the moment, nothing was moving here except a scuttling rat or two.

As they neared the end of Brehova Street, Mare stiffened and poked him in the side. Jack nodded- he could also hear the slight scrabbling noise, just around the left corner. They lifted their crossbows to ready positions, stepped around it together... they were staring south down Krizovnicka Street, also empty. But the masonry wall on the sidewalk's port side looked fairly climbable... and had Jack gotten a shadowy glimpse of something ducking behind the top?

Mare and Sparrow looked to each other. They both knew, from their map studies, what lay on that wall's farther side.

Jack whispered, "I've a feeling about that place, lass. 'Tis a mandatory site fer every Prague tourist ta see. 'Could be that includes Undead ones."

"Yes, it would probably be to his taste."

Sparrow gave his skirted companion a boost up, before scrambling after her. They extended their legs over the inner edge and jumped down together, pausing to examine their singular surroundings.

Like most city visitors, they'd heard about the Old Jewish Cemetery- one of the oldest known burial grounds Europe. It had been in use from 1439 to 1787 before it was declared full... very full indeed. This one-hectare site was the final resting place of perhaps 10,000 internees; bodies had been buried up to twelve deep. The tree-shaded ground was covered with over 12,000 weathered tombstones- in some areas they were placed close as bread-loaf slices. One could hardly ask for a better spot to find cover.

Mare hefted her crossbow. "I'll go down the east side, you take the west."

Jack patted his own weapon. They separated before starting to make their way down the rows. Sparrow grimaced- he'd crossed alpine ice-tumbles that offered easier footing. With so little room to stand- let alone move- between the markers, he wondered how they'd ever managed to hold those later funerals. Had these folks never considered the advantages of burial at sea?

Though he tried to place his feet carefully, Jack couldn't always avoid stepping on tilted stone. He could only hope, if there were any ghosts about, they'd comprehend he was walking over them for a good cause- possibly of benefit to some of their own descendants.

He finally reached a less-crowded stretch. Some of the Hebrew-inscribed stones here were quite large, perhaps honoring persons of distinction- rabbis and such. One grave-marker was the same size and shape as a bed, with a sizable headboard. Jack eyed it warily, moving sideways to get a look behind...

A lithe figure sprang out at him, hard and fast- Sparrow yelped as inhumanly strong fingers seized his wrist, wrenching the crossbow from his grasp. Jack's free fist struck out savagely, hitting only air- he got a glimpse of Mare beyond, her own weapon raised. The assailant spun, flung Sparrow's crossbow like a discus. Jack heard splintering wood, and Mare's startled cry, even as he took advantage of the lessened grip. He twisted himself loose, landed in a fighter's crouch... and found himself staring into a startlingly familiar visage.

Mare was storming across the yard, hairdo toppled, clutching the shafts of their damaged crossbows. Jack could swear; when that gal was riled her mane lashed like the tail of an angry feline. As she closed she lifted the wooden pieces, forming a cross. The vampire snarled, lip curling with distaste. Leaping from Jack, he performed an incredibly high backspring onto the stone headboard, perching there like barn owl.

As Mare arrived alongside Jack caught her elbow- reminding her those crossed timbers were a repellent, not a shield. If she got too close the creature could knock it from her hands. Sparrow was very aware of the disassembled crossbow concealed in Mare's bustle, and the brace of short wooden bolts tucked in her stays, but it seemed improbable she'd get any chance to assemble it now. Their best option was to try to delay their quarry here, until James caught up with his functional weapon.

Sparrow kept his stare fixed on said quarry, noting the obviously expensive clothing- bottle-green brocade frock coat, tailored black breeches, fitted boots of a quality only highborn gentlemen aspired to. But, aside from the red irises, the face was the thing. Jack remembered those features all too well- high forehead, coldly contemptuous eyes, deceptively soft lips which were always on the verge of curling into a sneer.

The vampire bestowed what might have been a charming smile, if it hadn't uncovered such alarmingly long canine teeth. "Might I know what your business is with me, Lady and Gentleman?" The cultured, mocking voice was also familiar, even speaking Czech.

Jack answered with equal disdain. "'Tis been so long since our last face-to-face, it seemed only polite to exchange greetings. I notice you've gained height an' lost pigment since then... Cutler Beckett." It was a testimony to Mare's focus that she only gave Jack a lightning-quick side-glance.

The pale head tilted, stirring it's frame of ivory hair. "'Cutler Beckett'... that name is somewhat familiar. I may have used it at some point- I've gone by so many! For the moment, though, I prefer to be addressed by my current appellation." He managed an elegant from-the-waist bow, which would've toppled any normal person from that narrow perch. "Count Kazimir Vrana, very much at your service. And you are...?"

"Disinclined to return the courtesy." Mare's voice was subzero. "You're responsible for putting several youngsters in the hospital."

Kazimir's voice acquired a subtle singsong quality, mesmerizing as flames, or water ripples. "Just for a few days. A small price to pay for immortality, wouldn't you say? Contemplate that! To never again fear illness, aging, the waning of your days. That limited existence which ensnares you now is for lesser beings- animals, cattle." He encompassed the crowded cemetery with a dismissive wave. "Imagine viewing the grave as naught but a replenishing interlude. Imagine having endless years before you!"

Sparrow snorted. / _Coals to Newcastle! Not that this rotter doesn't spin an appealing sales pitch. He'd be a natural hosting informercials._ /

Vrana lowered his gaze, regarding the two Operatives in what might be described as 'a most improper fashion.' Jack experienced an unnerving twinge of deja vu.

"And the freedom, my loves! You've not known what it is to be truly untrammeled until you've run with the night... left behind all restrictions, all inhibitions. You shall be beholden to no one- no authority over you, excepting the minimal regulation of the Coven. My Coven. I offer a place in it, here and now, to the two of you. You are both so young, so very lovely... like night-blooming flowers. You should never have to fade." His tone changed to a seductive purr. "Join me, my beauties! Come into the night... to your destiny... to me."

Mare was still glaring, the sticks in her grasp never wavering. Sparrow glanced at her before snapping, "I'm a bit too fond of the sun, mate."

"You'll not miss that garish light, I promise you. Not amidst the pleasure I shall bestow... wave upon wave of sensual delights. You shall understand what I mean, very soon." Vrana's mouth curved into a subtle predatory smile, fully confident he'd soon have the thing he desired. Jack couldn't recall anybody regarding him in quite that manner, since...

/ _Bloody hell! After all these years, that lecherous troll is still intent on possessing me!_ /

Kazimir raised one marble-white hand, fingers rippling gracefully in time to his chanted words. "Very beautiful, indeed, the two of you. Such exquisite flesh, such magnificent hair- the color of fire and shadows. You should be honored, worshiped, stroked all over... fine skin bared to the night wind, to my own touch. For mine alone is worthy of you... only I can bestow the immortality you so deserve." All ten fingers were beckoning. "Come to me now, my loves. Accept this gift- the caress that frees you. Be my luminous treasures. Be cherished, for as long as the world shall last..."

"Enough _hovno_!" Meredith put special emphasis on the noun. "I have an incurably low opinion of people who hurt children."

Vrana paused, dark brows arched, as though witnessing an unexpected phenomena. Which he probably was. Not every woman possessed Mare's imperviousness to charm.

Jack shook himself within. /_ This bastard really is good! Maybe I should memorize that little speech, fer usage on another occasion._ /

Not that it would ever work on him. No, of course not.

A distant call interrupted. "Jack? Meredith?"

Vrana straightened on his perch, looked scornfully towards the nearing voice. "Another of your ilk, I take it? Such a shame- I abhor crowds. Well, then..." The amorous smile returned. "We shall meet again, my beauties. Until then, I shall dream of you."

Kazimir made another superhuman leap, back-flipping onto a further headstone. Mare had a moment's absurd thought, that that was no way to behave in a cemetery. As he made a third leap, turning into a midair roll, she spotted a metallic flash- something falling from his coat pocket.

Sparrow was already in motion, racing after the fleeing miscreant. "Jack! No!" shouted Mare. The ex-pirate paid no mind. He was covering ground impressively fast, considering the abundance of obstacles underfoot, but it was obviously going to be a futile chase.

As the two males sprinted towards the further end of the cemetery, Mare stepped to retrieve the fallen item, scooping it from a stony chink. It was a small but heavy pendant necklace, strung on a substantial link chain. She tucked it into her dress bodice as she hastened to the nearest section of wall, tucked up her skirts and climbed over. James rushed across the street to meet her, half-catching her as she dropped down to the sidewalk.

"Mare! I'm sorry I strayed that far. I spotted a tall man in a long opera cape- I'd followed him a ways before I noticed the beard..." Norrington halted, recognizing the splintered remnants of the crossbows in her hands. "What happened?"

"We found our vampire- Jack's giving chase!"

"WHAT? Which way?"

"South, through the cemetery!"

They ran together down Krizovnicka, alongside the wall, turning at the southwest corner. To their great relief, a scruffed but uninjured Jack was standing on that curb, angrily eyeing the empty streets.

As his colleagues joined him, he spat, "Fer future reference: theer's absolutely no point tryin' ta run those bloodsuckers down on foot!"

"It was imbecilic for you to try!" Norrington chided. "What if he'd turned on you, when you were alone and weaponless?"

"The blaggard didn't seem ta be in a fighting mood. More interested in showin' off his speed." Sparrow's voice darkened. "An here's a news flash: that smarmy maggot bears uncanny resemblance ta one Lord Cutler Beckett."

James looked gobsmacked. "Surely it couldn't actually be him- not this long after he died!"

"A rather peculiar assertion comin' from such as yerself, Commodore. Vampirism hain't my field of expertise, or yours, so neither of us can estimate the probability. But if it's true bein' an evil rotter makes you a likely candidate, His Shortness definitely had that credential!"

Mare cut in. "Whatever his history is, we've got a face and name for him now. He introduced himself as Count Kazimir Vrana- we had a nice little chat before you arrived, James. He tried to recruit both of us."

"That's not all he bloody tried ta do. Which I consider further supportin' evidence! That pestilential sod always was an equal opportunity seducer!"

Norrington used a second to rein in his ire. "Let's not waste time speculating- we don't actually need to establish whether or not he's Beckett. Our task is to eliminate him, as quickly as possible." James ruefully examined their deserted surroundings. "I think we can assume he won't return here tonight. And we can hardly search the whole city."

"Do you suppose preventing the completion of his pentagon threw a wrench in his works?" speculated Mare.

"I wouldn't count on that. He might've just been playing a game- planting a clue in plain sight, to see whether anyone would notice."

Jack looked dubious. "Givin' us a sporting chance? That's not Cutler's usual style."

"I repeat: we don't know whether he's Beckett. Even if he is, he may well have undergone sufficient transformation to eclipse his original personality. What we need now is some clue to the location of his daytime lair."

"This might help- here's something he dropped." Meredith extracted the necklace from her dress and dangled it before her colleagues.

Intrigued, Jack hefted the pendant on his palm. And almost whistled. "That's an admirable bit of shine!"

"Let's examine it under better light." The group moved a short distance to stand beneath a street lamp. James gave the object a close inspection. It was oval in shape, the weigh confirming it's metal component as gold. A large central ruby was set off by a spiral of pink, green, and white enamel, with an outer border of rose diamonds interspersed with pearls.

"I think both of you know jewelry better than me. Is this anything a man would wear?" Mare inquired.

"Almost certainly not, lass. The colors are too pastel," Sparrow replied.

"Then he must have stolen it from one of his victims."

"Not from anybody we've seen thus far." James turned the pendant over, revealing a tiny enamel portrait on the back; a black-haired young man in an officer's uniform. "This is a designer piece. Only an upper-class individual could possibly have afforded it."

"Perhaps it's a family heirloom. Or a gift from a lady acquaintance. Either way, it could help us learn more about him," Mare asserted.

James closed his fist over the precious object. "Indeed. We should make every effort to establish who the rightful owner is." Looking to Sparrow, he added pointedly, "And if it turns out this was stolen, we'll have to return it."

For once, Jack didn't waste time pouting. "I believe I can offer a suggestion as ta who'd be likely ta know."

"A jeweler?"

"Much more better, cousin. First thing we ought ta do tomorrow, is navigate to a less-reputable part of town an' locate a pawn shop."

"If we must." Norrington couldn't quite conceal his distaste at the prospect of taking his wife into such a place.

Meredith enfolded his arm. "Darling, if consorting with pawnbrokers is the most objectionable thing we end up doing on this Mission, we can consider ourselves more than fortunate."

Aye," Sparrow growled, brushing off a sleeve. "Particularly if that pernicious half-pint is involved."

xxx

**TBC...**

xxx

_hovno- Czech for 'dung'_


	3. Chapter 3

'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney.

xxx

"Do try to relax, James. I've seen you more at ease in a war zone!"

"There's a rather fundamental difference, Mare. On the Dunkirk Mission we were equipped to defend ourselves. But in our current situation..." James made a broad hand gesture, contrasting their refined modes of dress with the not-particularly-civil environment beyond the cab window.

Directly after vacating their hotel that morn, the three had hired a cab to seek out the requisite disreputable neighborhood and disreputable pawn shop. The Norringtons were now parked just down the street from said shoddy establishment, while Jack pursued the investigation inside. It would have been James' preference to first check into new lodgings and leave Meredith there, but the lady insisted on coming along, in case Sparrow discovered something of immediate importance.

Norrington tapped the floor impatiently with his walking stick. That rogue seemed to be taking an inordinately long time in there. "I do hope he's not negotiating a selling price!"

"Oh, he won't risk that," Meredith asserted. "Jack's a terrible tease, but he always knows when to...."

Loud shouting suddenly erupted from the pawn shop- Jack burst out, sprinting pell-mell for the cab, a wide and angry shopkeeper at his heels.

Mare threw open the cab door, shouting to the driver, "The moment he's aboard, go!"

The intelligent fellow cracked his whip the second Sparrow dove in (literally dove- he did a belly flop onto the floor), and the vehicle took off, narrowly outrunning the bellowing pawnbroker. They sped down a series of poorly paved avenues, lurching like a skiff on rough seas- Jack barely managed to pull himself to a sitting position.

Norrington kept a tight grip on the wall rail, as he glared down at the offender. "What Did You Do?"

"Nothing! It was all a misunderstanding!" Sparrow insisted.

Mare was also clinging to the rail, perilously close to the unfastened cab door. "Involving the unauthorized relocation of some valuable item on your person?" she guessed.

The jostled pirate somehow managed a hand-flick. "A mere trifle! An' I was going to put it back. 'Twas the blighter's overexcited overreaction what necessitated my throwin' it into his face."

"Just for that, you can pick up the fare this time. With a substantial tip!" snapped James. Sparrow knew making puppy-dog eyes wouldn't alter that sentence, but he tried it anyway.

The bumping finally diminished as the mismatched horses slowed down- they were out of the danger zone. Their driver called down, "Where to now, sir?"

"City Center," Norrington answered, reaching to shut and fasten the door. As Jack scrambled onto the facing seat, James noticed what was not there to be noticed. "You didn't lose the necklace!"

"Quite right- I didn't! " Sparrow haughtily plucked that item from an inner coat pocket. "An' what's more pertinent: I did extract the sought-for information from that blubber-arsed git, prior to our communications breakdown. This pretty bauble belongs to the Vartenberka family. Specifically, the Countess Marjeta Vartenberka."

James' annoyance evaporated. "He was sure about that?"

"Very much so." Sparrow gave the pendant a playful twirl. "The portrait's of an ancestor of hers, who distinguished himself during the Napoleonic wars. Furthermore, I've established the Countess is a wealthy dowager widow, currently residing in this very burg. I'd bet my next paycheck that Mr. Cutler Vrana's her acting gigolo. He hain't gettin' his wardrobe allowance by sellin' matches!"

Mare asked, "Did you also establish her address?"

"Didn't quite get around ta that, luv. But a concierge at any of the better hotels in town should be able ta provide that info. 'Specially to an inquirer with a bit of coin to spare."

"Very well. A better hotel it is." James reached into the outer pocket of his squat leather travel valise, pulling out a list. After studying it a minute, he stuck his head out the window to give the driver their new destination.

"After we check in, I'll make arrangements for us to pay this Countess a visit." He looked to Mare. "Time to make use of our English Aristocrat costumes. Jack, you can dress as my man servant."

Sparrow pulled a moue. "I'm an old hand at impersonating toffs- I once passed fer a Spanish naval officer, right under King William the Third's nose! How come I have ta be the servant?"

"Because I'm not fool enough to let you pose as Mare's husband right in front of me. I can just imagine the advantages you'd take, claiming it was all for authenticity's sake."

"Really, Commodore! Surely you don't imagine yer dearly beloved'd allow me ta take any advantage beyond a moderate display of affection! She'd break my nose if I tried."

Mare pressed her lips in a noncommittal manner.

James' tone was grim. "Much as I'd enjoy witnessing that, such an ill-mannered display would probably get us ejected from the premises. Therefore, I am going to be the nobleman. And that's that!"

Jack stuck out his tongue.

xxx

The Vartenberka's large townhouse- worn tan brick, with cracked Corinthian pilasters and a discolored coat of arms- was clearly past it's prime. As was the hatchet-faced footman in yellow-and-black livery, who opened the door to admit them. "The Countess awaits you in the sitting room, Lord and Lady Norrington," he reported with a bow.

The resplendent couple glided in. James, carrying a thick ebony walking stick, was in a ruffled shirt under black brocade waist- and frock-coats. Meredith wore a dove-gray gown with black braid trim (and bustle, natch), a small black-feathered hat, and button-up shoes. Jack entered a few steps behind, in elegant but less-pricey attire, hair tied back in a neat queue.

The townhouse's anteroom and hallway had just as obviously seen better days; the turkey carpets and velvet furniture had worn spots, the heroic portraits and their gilded frames were dingy with age. Europe's aristocracy was in it's waning years, as reflected by the faded grandeur.

The sitting room, with it's plentiful windows and newer furnishings, was more agreeable. As was the Countess herself, smiling from a gilded fainting couch, flapping a creamy ostrich-plume fan. She was approaching sixty, and could be described as 'pleasingly plump', with a cheerful round face. It was more endearing than grotesque, that she seemed completely unaware her frilly salmon dress, overdone makeup, and curly strawberry wig were all wrong for her age bracket. Meredith's initial impression of the woman was the antithesis of vampiric; frivolous, kindly, innocent. The idea of Vrana getting his claws into this gullible naïf... Mare's innards twisted.

James stepped forward to kiss the lady's powdered knuckles. "My dear Countess Vartenberka, we am most honored to make your acquaintance."

Marjeta's greeting seemed genuinely pleased. "And I am delighted to meet you, Lord and Lady Norrington! Please, do sit down and take some tea."

James and Mare seated themselves in the gilded French chairs across from her, Jack standing in attendance behind them. The tea service was delivered by the same liveried footman, who subsequently vanished. Mare promptly offered Jack the biscuit tray, knowing he'd sulk if she didn't.

The usual preliminary topics were dealt with- the weather (very fine for this time of year, don't you think?) and the Countess' inquiry about the state of the British monarchy (holding a steady course, thank you), before Norrington lowered his teacup and cleared his throat.

"Countess, we actually had a purpose in calling on you, other than a strictly social one. I wanted to inquire whether this is object is yours."

James drew the jeweled pendant from a pocket and showed it to her. The startled Countess' fan froze in mid-flap. "Why, wherever did you get that?"

Mare answered neutrally. "I saw it fall from the pocket of a fleeing man."

Their hostess raised one hand to her mouth. "Not a fair-complexioned gentleman, with flaxen hair?"

"That meets his description. So you saw the thief?"

Marjeta shook her head, vigorously enough to shift the towering wig. "Oh no, my dears, it wasn't stolen! I gave it away quite voluntarily, to a very dear friend of mine. Goodness, I hope misplacing this isn't going to cause him any embarrassment!" She extended a soft hand to take the pendant; James promptly relinquished it. "You have my deepest gratitude for returning this to me. I can only pray he'll manage to come back to reclaim it!"

"We're happy to be of assistance, Countess," Meredith assured. "And we are somewhat curious about the man who dropped this. His behavior on that occasion was somewhat..."

"Oh, you must excuse his eccentricities! He is the Count Kazimir Vrana, and he's currently undergoing difficulties with both his creditors and his health. You may have noticed his pallor, and unconventional eye color. He suffers from a condition which makes it inadvisable for him to venture outside during the day."

James nearly choked on his tea. Jack had to purse his lips, hard.

"I provided him with this token to assist with his financial problems- mind you, those are only temporary! He just needs to pay off a few debts before he can acquire full Bohemian citizenship. Why, he's already in possession of a property in Prague- a mansion on the north side of Hradcany, the renowned Castle District. In it's current state of disrepair it's beneath his station. Unfortunately, that's the best he can do until he gets these matters settled." Her eyes glittered, as though she were relating a terrible tragedy.

Norrington kept his tone casual. "What estate is this?"

The Countess suddenly became tense. "I would have to consult with Count Vrana before I could tell you that. Unfortunately, he's not currently in Prague. He left early this morning, to tend to some business matter in Tábor."

Mare brushed a hand over her left ear, signaling to her colleagues that she'd detected a falsehood. "Countess, forgive my frankness, but why do you feel need to conceal Count Vrana's whereabouts?"

Marjeta's soft jaw dropped. "Why, whatever makes you think I'd do such a thing?"

"You have just reported he's left the city, but we know he has not." James and Jack nodded solemnly, as if they'd known all the time. "Did he instruct you to misdirect any inquiries about him?"

Despite Mare's gentle tone, the Countess suddenly looked near panic. Her feathery fan fell to the floor as she flung a hand to her throat. "You've deceived me- _you_ are his creditors!"

Mrs. Norrington switched to a very serious voice. "No, Countess. If you've been deceived, it was by him. We are people who know something about Count Vrana- we've come to warn you before he does irreparable harm."

Countess Vartenberka's cheerful mood was quite gone; she glanced about the room like a frightened bird, as though seeking someone to save her from this most unwanted development. Mare sighed within. This wasn't going to be easy, or pleasant.

Norrington read the situation well enough- women were often reluctant to discuss such matters in front of men. "Meredith, would you like us to leave the room?"

"That would probably be better, thank you, James... Jack."

Her husband rose and made a bow, then he and Sparrow retreated to the anteroom. They spent an uncomfortable half-hour there, pacing and examining old paintings (James had to defer Jack from collecting a bit of gilt under his fingernails- no, not even from the back of the frame, where it would never be noticed or missed.) Mare finally joined them. She shut the sitting room door behind her, looking quite downcast.

"You predicted right, Jack. It's the usual sad story: a lonely middle-aged widow, desperate for another man in her life, falling for the wiles of a conniving scoundrel. She met Vrana two months ago, at the Prague Opera House. He introduced himself as a foreign aristocrat, invited her to accompany him to dinner, piled on the flattery... you can guess the sequence of events. She became convinced he intended to marry her, as soon as he got rid of a few troublesome debts, so she's been supplying him with expensive gifts to expedite that process." Mare drew a paper bit from her reticule. "I did talk her into giving me the address of his Hradcany mansion."

James and Jack leaned to scrutinize the scribbled paper. Norrington mentally compared it with his studies of the city map. "This isn't very far away. We can easily check it out before dark." He looked towards the sitting room. "The Countess has been of enormous help. We should thank her."

"Now's not the best time, James. It's upset her terribly to learn her supposed new love is a lying schemer, pretending affection just to get at her money. One of the worst possible betrayals any man can inflict on a woman." Her shoulders sagged. "We really should just go."

James, who felt uncomfortable about leaving without a word, looked to Jack. The pirate could only shrug.

"In matters of this sort, I'm inclined to trust a lady's expertise."

xxx

Norrington's step was animated as they descended the townhouse stairs to the walkway. Mare, in contrast, looked quite dejected. Noting that, James came to a decision.

"It would be more prudent if I investigate this mansion by myself. Vrana knows both of you on sight- he's never laid eyes on me."

"That bloodsucker won't be awake before sunset," Jack reminded.

"True. But he may have passed a description on to whomever is guarding him. If anyone is. If it should it turn out he's alone..." James hefted his convertible walking stick, "then I may be able to complete this Mission before dinner. Otherwise, I'll meet you back at the hotel, and we'll plan what to do next. I strongly advise you to rest until then, darling- you really look tired."

"It's just the harsh lighting, dear," Sparrow smirked.

For once, Mare conceded immediately. "You're probably right. Between missing so much sleep, and that rather a grueling questioning..."

Behind them, the townhouse door opened and the liveried footman hurried down to join them. He gave the supposed aristocrats another polite bow.

"My Lord and Lady Norrington, the Countess Vartenberka regrets that circumstances require your sudden departure. To make amends, she has instructed me to offer usage of her carriage to transport you to your lodgings. She considers it the least she can do, in exchange for the restoration of her pendant."

"That would be much appreciated, thank you. Please convey our gratitude," James replied.

"I shall bring it around shortly."

As the footman hastened off, Norrington addressed Mare. "A carriage will be far more comfortable than a hack. You take it- I'll catch a cab. Sparrow, I'm trusting you to make sure she arrives safely."

"I'll do me best, mate."

James and Mare fell into an embrace. Jack, averting his eyes, happened to notice movement in the alley beyond the townhouse; a tall thin figure in black-and-yellow Vartenberka livery, driving a one-horse dogcart with some speed.

/_ Surely that's not our transport?_ / Apparently it wasn't. Upon reaching the road, the cart turned the other way.

Releasing Mare, James walked a short ways to the corner, where he quickly flagged down a cab. He recited the address to the driver as he climbed in, and they drove off.

Just up the street, a red-bearded man did exactly the same thing.

xxx

The mansion- an imposing Neo-Renaissance structure- was another faded remnant of a bygone era. Rusticated masonry exterior, large front entrance topped with a pediment, rows of arched windows... all boarded up and water-stained. This place must have looked splendid in it's prime; now it exuded an aura of decay and neglect. As did the shaggy lawn, with it's aged trees and untrimmed hedges.

Unfortunately it wasn't overgrown enough to provide James with any cover, as he made his way up the sloped cobblestone drive. Since he couldn't hide, he'd just have to brazen it out should he encounter anyone.

The gloomy building loomed larger. Norrington touched the assembled black crossbow tucked under his frock coat. If he was very lucky, every resident would be quiescent now- it was several hours until sunset. If nothing else, he intended to have a good close look at the lay of...

A vague sound of distress froze him in his tracks. Then James quickened his pace, listening intently 'til he could hear it plain- a young woman's voice, calling plaintively from behind the building.

"Help! Somebody please, help me!"

The Commodore broke into a run, hurrying to the other side of the mansion- was that monster holding some poor girl prisoner?

He reached the back, hurrying past a deserted stable. The back wall's first-floor windows were nearly flush with the ground. The pleas had given way to heartbroken sobbing; he quickly identified which window they were coming through. "Madame! Stand back- I'll soon have you free!"

James kicked hard against the boards, knocking the furrowed planks loose from their nails. Pulling the last of them clear, he ducked his head inside to search the shadowed interior. "Where are y...?"

Something hard and heavy crashed onto his skull, and everything went black.

xxx

Jack and Mare had a five-minute wait before the footman appeared with a paneled brown carriage, pulled by a pair of dapple-gray percherons. Mare was pleased to note the Countess could at least afford to keep some decent draft horses; the animals fairly danced in their harness, impatient to be underway.

The footman-turned-coachman regarded the two with some puzzlement. "Where is Lord Norrington?"

"He has some business at the hotel that couldn't wait, so he's gone ahead," Mare explained.

"I am sorry to have taken so long, Lady Norrington. The carriage interior needed a bit of sweeping-out. I hope the bottle of wine within shall provide adequate compensation."

"That should do fine, mate. My Lady could use a spot of liquid refreshment." Jack glanced to the person under discussion- Meredith really did look peaked. Sparrow opened the carriage door and handed her inside, in a properly servile fashion.

Mare settled into the cushioned seat with a relieved sigh. The carriage interior, though not immaculate, was appealingly spacious. A dark green wine bottle, accompanied by three slightly smeared glasses, was stowed in a side bracket.

"Which hotel is yours?" the driver asked. Sparrow supplied the name. "I can take you via the scenic route, if you prefer."

"That'll be fine, thank you. I just need to sit still for a while," replied Mare.

As the carriage got underway, Jack loosened his belt to extract a couple gum-sized packets of concentrated ration. Not the tastiest fare around, but good for keeping Operatives going when they couldn't spare the time for proper meals. He downed one, offered the other to Mare, who swallowed it in a perfunctory fashion.

Sparrow settled back to enjoy the passing landmarks; whimsical public clocks, antique fountains, churches sporting every variety of dome, turret and spire. "On my last visit to Prague I didn't get any proper chance ta see the sights. Albeit fer substantially different reasons," he commented. "Lots of folk consider this one o' the bonniest cities in Europe."

"Mmm," was Mare's only response. That was when Sparrow noticed she had one hand curled protectively against her abdomen. His eyes widened- he'd seen wenches make that gesture before.

Noting his scrutiny, Mare snatched her hand away. That pretty much cinched it.

Jack leaned close. "Lass, are there, in actuality, three of us inside this carriage?"

Mrs. Norrington look annoyed, but answered directly. "Yes."

"Uh-huh. An' how long were you planning ta keep James in the dark?"

Mare frowned at the implied rebuke. "I am not 'keeping him in the dark'. I only confirmed this yesterday, when I visited the physician, and haven't found a good moment to inform him. Frankly, I think he could do without the distraction just now. So don't you spill the beans either! When it comes to babies I'm old-fashioned- I don't want to know the gender before it's born, and I certainly want to be the one to tell the father."

"My lips are sealed, darlin'," Jack promised, touching said appendages for emphasis. He reached to the bracket and extracted the wine bottle. "Seems a congratulatory gesture is called for. Though, circumstances bein' what they are, a half-ration seems advisable."

"A half-glass will be fine."

Sparrow broke the wax seal and wrested the cork off. Taking a sniff, he scowled with disappointment. "White!"

"Excellent! That's just what I'm in the mood for."

Jack huffed, but filled one of the glasses halfway for her, deciding the smearing was too slight to worry about.

Mare sipped the beverage appreciatively, taking a full minute to finish it. "Aren't you having any?"

The ex-pirate shook his head. "I'll wait fer the hotel offerings. The beers in this region are reasonably..."

Without a word or sound, Mare's eyes rolled shut and she slumped against his shoulder.

"Luv, if yer as tired as that, jus' say so. I can shift over for you."

Mare toppled, her head flopping heavily into his lap. Jack flinched, almost chiding that this jest was hard on the goods... but Meredith wasn't prone to that kind of jest.

"Mare? Mare!" He nudged and shook to no avail- she was out cold. Perplexed, Jack rolled down the carriage window and stuck his head out. "Driver! We need ta pull over- Lady Norrington's just fainted!"

Instead, the footman brought his whip down on the gray-dappled rumps, speeding the percherons to a canter. "We'd better to take her to hospital! I know the nearest one."

So saying, the driver turned onto a long bridge- there were many in Prague. Jack tried to recall which hospitals were on the western bank, but couldn't remember offhand. He'd just have to trust the driver's expertise.

Sparrow positioned Mare's head on his lap, to cushion her against the lurches. And tried to discern what the hell had happened. Thankfully, she showed no signs of breathing difficulties, nor any other discomfort. He could have taken her state for ordinary sleep, if not for the fact he couldn't rouse her.

They were now passing through an upscale neighborhood, the skyline dominated by an impressively long, red-roofed structure with a cluster of spires in the middle. That could only be Prague Castle, which meant they were in the Hradcany District. Were, in fact, angling northward...

A sinister suspicion seized Jack. He reached to Mare's left eye, carefully pushing back the lid. The enlarged pupil practically eclipsed the gray-blue iris. She'd been drugged!

/ _Had to've been the wine... but that bottle was sealed! How could...?_ /

Sparrow snatched up one of the unused glass, studied the smear within. Dried-on knockout drops! /_ Those'd do the job in any volume of spirits. 'Tis sheer luck I'm adverse ta the white stuff!_ /

But his current state of alertness might not be of much benefit. He glanced out the window- they were now hurrying past widely spaced estate houses, with no pedestrians to call out to. He might risk leaping from the speeding conveyance, but there was no way he could manage that with an unconscious woman in his arms. Sparrow considered jumping out alone, to fetch help...

He promptly recalled a parallel situation, when it had been himself drugged and helpless, and James who'd had to choose whether to abandon him.

Well, that made that decision.

The ex-pirate gathered Meredith a little closer. "You aren't going ta wake up ta find yerself alone amongst enemies, lass. Not if I can help it!"

Sparrow glared at that section of the ceiling which'd be underneath the driver's perch- it was too sound to breach. Recalling the footman's words to them, he wondered why Mare's natural lie-detector hadn't gone off. Perhaps she'd mistaken his mendacity for the polite dissembling required of servants- she never had claimed her 'sixth sense' was foolproof.

Jack blew against his mustache as he regarded Mare's peaceful face. "Not ta worry, luv. Ol' Jack's with you. We'll find a way to weather this squall."

The horses made a dangerously sharp turn into one of the estate driveways. Jack glimpsed overgrown, tree-dotted lawn, surrounding an obviously aged mansion... just what the Countess had described. He looked for any sign of Norrington, seeing none.

Too late, he recalled the crossbow pieces concealed in Mare's bustle. He had no time to get at them now. The carriage was pulling up to the mansion's back entrance- two figures stood on either side of the drive, with drawn revolvers. And not pointing them at the driver.

That blaggard reined the horses to a halt, jumped down and yanked the carriage door open- he also held a pistol. The other members of this 'welcoming committee' closed in from either side. One was a large dull-eyed brute, sporting a bestial quantity of hair. The other was a fairly young woman with a mop of yellow ringlets, who might have looked pretty if her expression wasn't so vicious. The way she glared at Mare prompted Jack to tighten his hold.

"I call this mighty poor repayment fer returning her ladyship's heirloom," he complained.

Hatchet Face sneered with utter contempt. "That old _krava_ had nothing to do with it- she's too hen-brained to trap a netted fish! My other employer..." his tone changed to reverence, "... is a different matter entirely."

Of course he was. Count Kazimir would make a point of planting a spy in his cash-cow's household... or two of them, Sparrow amended, recalling the tall servant fleeing in the dogcart. No doubt hurrying here, to alert Vrana's day guard to prepare for the arrival of 'guests'.

The hairy minion shouldered his way in, reaching for the unconscious woman. "I can take care of her," Jack hastily offered- if they stayed together, he might get a chance to retrieve that crossbow.

The brute ignored him entirely. He snatched Mare up, slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and started towards the mansion's wide back door. Sparrow winced as the blonde grabbed one of Mare's tresses in passing, giving it a hard yank.

The treacherous footman pressed the business end of his gun to Jack's temple, grabbed his collar and pulled him out. Goldilocks jerked his wrists behind his back and manacled them. Then Hatchet Face pushed the gun against Jack's shoulder blade and pushed him along after the hulk. The ex-pirate was careful to maintain a nonchalant front; inside he was fuming with chagrin.

/ _What a revoltin' development this is..._ /

TBC...

xxx

_Krava- Czech for cow_


	4. Chapter 4

_'Pirates of the Caribbean' belongs to Disney._

xxx

Norrington pressed his face between the window bars, studying the scumbled sky. Trying to gauge from it's brightness how long it would be until sundown. His hands were tugging at the base of those bars, just to release tension- he'd long since determined they were too well-set to budge. It'd been hours since he'd awakened here, head throbbing, relieved of frock coat and waistcoat along with his crossbow. And with two gloating people regarding him through the door grate.

One had been a large hirsute male; quite probably the individual who'd clobbered him. The other was a youngish female, with blonde hair done in long curls and a disturbingly malevolent face. She'd mockingly repeated her "Somebody please help me!" decoy call, before informing him that, despite his showing up without an invitation, "the Master" would graciously grant him an audience this very evening.

As soon as they'd left, he'd set about examining the place. James quickly deduced he was imprisoned on the second floor of the old mansion, for he recognized the abandoned stable opposite his window. He knew he was too far from the road for any shouting to be heard, though he'd made a few attempts anyway.

More time was spent seeking an egress from this room, which had clearly not originally been built as a holding cell, It had a multi-wood parquet floor (badly scruffed and scratched), and a few shreds of expensive silk-screened paper clinging to the walls. Unfortunately, whoever had done the conversion really knew their job. He'd even tested the grating in the heavy door, though removing it wouldn't have helped him anyway; that opening was too small for him to squeeze through.

It was obviously dusk- might even be past sunset- when he heard a clatter of wheels and hooves coming up the drive. James strained to see, hoping against hope that Jack and Mare had sent a rescue party.

A plain one-horse wagon drove into view, bearing three people. To his great disconcertment, two of them were wearing that wasp-colored Vartenberka livery. As the wagon halted beside the stable, he recognized the Countess' footman. The other liveried man was tall and lean, with a very surly expression. The third figure was a woman, of ordinary build and features, with ragged dark hair. As the footman tied the scrawny brown horse to a hitching post, he sent one gloating smirk towards James' window. Then the trio hastened into the house.

Norrington did some calculating. Assuming Kazimir was inside, there were now at least six enemies inside this building. The pair who'd entrapped him earlier couldn't be vampires, nor could the Countess' footman. The other two newcomers probably weren't either. If that wagon had come any distance, they must have been on the road when the sun was still up.

So he might be dealing mostly with unaltered humans- minions recruited to carry out daylight tasks, who would lack any extraordinary powers. Still, being badly outnumbered, he must be prepared to do his utmost. Evening was falling fast, his 'audience' with Vrana would soon take place.

The outside was dark enough for the owls to start calling, when several sets of footsteps approaching his prison. James turned to face the door, both hands closing into fists.

The ragged-hair woman appeared on the other side of the grating, pointed a pistol through. "On the floor. Other side of the room," she ordered. Seeing no choice, Norrington obeyed.

The thick door opened, two people entered; the tall sullen guy who'd recently arrived, and the bearish brute James had seen earlier. Everyone was now wearing rough-spun dark cloaks. The two men closed on James, chained his hands behind back, pulled him to his feet and hustled him out. Their grips, though not inhumanly strong, were certainly formidable. As Norrington was pulled down the decrepit hallway, the pistol-welding woman fell into step behind him.

The prisoner was led down two deteriorated stone staircases and along a damp subterranean corridor, towards a large open doorway smelling of mold, smoke, and a hard-to-identify metallic odor. As the entrance loomed he grabbed impressions of the room beyond: large, sunken, floored with gray stone. The walls were covered with what looked like old tapestries, woven in such dark shades it was hard to discern their images. What could be made out was rather disturbing.

James was brought him to a stop just inside the doorway. Now he could see two freestanding iron cages on either side of the chamber. To his horror, the left one contained Meredith; an unconscious sprawl of disarrayed hair and skirts, one sleeve torn, with bruises on her arm and the side of her jaw. In the other cage sat Jack, arms folded over his knees, looking tense and miserable. Two more cloaked minions stood guard beside the cages, bearing ornamented spears. Mare's guard was the angry blonde girl, Jack's the hatchet-faced footman.

Sparrow shot James a brief apologetic glance. He might have voiced regret over his failure to keep Mare safe, but Hatchet Face had threatened painful consequences if he spoke without permission.

The chamber was lit by a half-dozen pedestal braziers filled with glowing coals, and perhaps some strange-scented incense. At the room's center was a pentagon-shaped dais, about six feet in diameter, luxuriantly upholstered with new-looking gold brocade. Norrington didn't want to consider what purpose it might be intended to serve.

The ragged brunette brushed past James and descended the five remaining steps into the chamber, to the free-hanging tapestries behind the dais. With a worshipful expression, she grasped the heavy fabric edge and pulled it back like a curtain, revealing a high-backed carved chair cushioned with purple velvet- practically a throne. On it reclined a pale man who could only be Kazimir Vrana. Even after being forewarned about the resemblance, Norrington felt a start of recognition.

Vrana returned the scrutiny. He was apparently quite at ease, poising like a magazine fashion ad in tight ivory satin breeches, his matching shirt open to the waist. The close-fitting black boots were as alarmingly familiar as the face. The unruly frame of hair was nearly as white as those old Naval wigs, the legs just a bit longer, but other than that...

The vampire bestowed a benign, cruel smile, beckoned with that too-well-remembered finger curl. James was tugged down the five steps, to stand across the dais from his 'host.'

"Lord Norrington, I presume?" The aristocratic voice also matched.

"I am." James, fixing a hard stare on Vrana, employed his most authoritative tone. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I believe you've already deduced that. I am in the preliminary phase of establishing a network of loyal Coven members in this city. We've assembled here tonight for the purpose of inducting a new member. You, and your colleagues, are here for the same reason." Vrana related this with a skewering stare of his own.

"Whatever you're up to, you'd be well advised to take it someplace else. The authorities have been notified- this stronghold will soon be invaded. The police won't have to believe in vampires to realize what you're doing here is highly illegal. Kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment, assault..."

Jack gave his cousin credit for presenting a near-perfect bluff. It was most regrettable he was facing an opponent with uncommon resistance to such ploys.

Vrana cut James off. "Ah, but I don't think you've informed anyone, Mr. Norrington. I believe you invaded my property with the intent of discovering something to report. Though you've succeeded at the first task, you've had no opportunity to accomplish the second. And as you can see..." Vrana waved a languid hand at both cages, "... I possess the means to assure you never do. The welfare of the hostage shall depend upon your silence."

James caught the implication. "'Hostage'? That's singular."

"Correct. For reasons you're unlikely to comprehend, I initiate only one new Coven member at a time. Therefore, just one of the prisoners shall be joining us tonight. The other shall be returned to your keeping."

Norrington forced himself to ask, "Which one?"

Kazimir smiled, evil and triumphant. "That, my dear Norrington, is for you to choose."

Though James controlled nine-tenths of his reaction, his dismay was obvious. Just to twist the knife, Vrana added, "After which I will require a single service from you, before you can leave. You must act as a witness to the induction ceremony of our new member." He regarded the padded dais expectantly, fingers twitching like a spider testing it's lines. "I shall certainly enjoy it, whichever way you decide. You'll be allowed a few minutes to make up your mind."

Norrington's face and form had gone rigid as glacial ice. Jack averted his eyes, enraged at seeing his friend subjected to such vile treatment.

Sparrow's frustrated gaze fell on his own left shoe. Secreted inside the heel was one of those oh-so-useful universal keys- standard equipment for all Operatives. Five unobserved seconds were all he'd need to extract and use it on his cage lock. But it would be worse than useless to try while Hatchet Face was still watching him. He must master himself- wait for the opportune moment. And when it came...

The pirate had long since observed the darkened old coat-of-arms plaque, hanging on the wall behind Vrana's throne. There was a pair of short (but apparently functional) crossed swords behind it. It was a myth that vampires could only die from wooden piercings; metal could also do the job. Jack briefly wondered if that plaque was here due to carelessness or another bit of uncharacteristic sportsmanship on Kazimir Beckett's part. Either way, Sparrow intended to make him regret it.

On the other side of the room, Mare moaned and stirred, earning a baleful glare from her guard. Jack knew that blonde minion was responsible for the completely extraneous infliction of Mare's bruises. Being an aficionado of Greek Mythology, he'd deduced the source of that animosity: Goldilocks was jealous of the Master's interest in the new gal. Not good at all.

Vrana spoke again. "You can believe what I say, James. You've done well to track me this far, so I'm offering a consolation prize; restoration of one of the captives. The other I'll keep beside me, to assure your future good conduct. And my own pleasure. But you needn't feel any anxiety over that individual's fate. Ours is an existence with considerable redeeming aspects. It won't be long before my new Coven member shall scarcely believe they ever wanted to follow any other path."

James' arm muscles clenched so hard they trembled. "How do I know you'll honor your half of the accord?"

"I could make the same inquiry of you. Though I don't think I need to. As I'm a man of my word, I can recognize that quality in others. You might rant in protest, but you will keep your promise to me." Kazimir's red-rimmed gaze roamed appreciatively over Jack, then Mare. "Both of your associates are such exquisite specimens, I'm finding it difficult to decide which I'd prefer to grace my alter tonight. Thus, I am leaving it up to you."

"I'm not convinced you have any intention of freeing either!" Norrington barked.

Kazimir frowned dangerously. "But you may be entirely sure of this: I shall retain them both, if you fail to decide. Your interval is almost up- you'd be well advised to make an answer!"

For long seconds the only audible sound was the settling of burning coals. Unless that was the grinding of Sparrow's teeth. Jack was nine-tenths sure this 'choice' was a heartless ruse- that Kazimir intended to kill or 'initiate' them all. The maggoty bastard was toying with James in the cruelest possible way.

But there was that one-tenth possibility Vrana was sincere. He might or might not be Cutler Beckett; he was undeniably a vampire. It could be those bloodsuckers were prone to keeping their word, and if that was the case...

Sparrow shifted restlessly. Self-sacrifice did not come naturally to him, but he was confronting an inexorable inequality: his own already extensive life span, versus the barely-started one of Mare and James' child. The navyman had a right to know what he was bargaining for.

Jack cleared his throat, ignoring Hatchet Face's warning spear thump. "Mr. Norrington, theer is one thing you need ta be told since it might possibly have bearing on yer decision. Meredith is pregnant."

James couldn't hide his response to that- shock, sharpened concern, fierce rebuke. Jack understood the latter- he'd taken a big risk. They were all very much in Kazimir's power, and there was no predicting how he'd react to this revelation.

Sparrow sneaked a look. The vampire was gaping into Mare's cage with... was that revulsion?

Jack's own lips curled slyly. His little gamble just may have paid off.

The pirate rose to his feet, addressing Vrana directly. "Aye- the wench has a bun in the oven. Within months she'll be swollen as an overstuffed kielbasa, cranky as a constipated puff adder- nowhere near so appealing then, eh? I, in contrast, shall retain my current comely shape." Jack performed a provocative full-body sway, running a sensuous hand from shoulder to waist, and began unfastening his frock coat. "Might be I've got too much cover ta do it justice, but that can be remedied."

James kept stock still. He'd caught that code word 'cover': _don't interfere, play along._

Kazimir regarded Jack with suspicion, but also growing interest- a combination mirrored by his followers.

In the other cage, Mare tossed as if gripped by a nightmare, one arm sliding behind her back.

Sparrow peeled back his coat, let it slide to floor. He made a show of reached behind his neck to loose his queue, shaking his freed locks to their fullest length. He'd seen enough burlesque shows- including a Gypsy Rose Lee performance in 1934 New York- to know what moves to use. Flashing an inviting glance at Vrana, he proceeded to unfastened his shirt buttons, one by one, then teased the sleeves from his shoulders before yanking it off entirely. He saucily whipping the garment in a circle, concealing a fast glance at Mare. She was on her side, her back to the room, a subtle shoulder shake indicating her hands were in motion. Jack could only hope Norrington had noticed, too.

James had, so was steadily keeping his attention elsewhere. / _A rather obvious diversionary tactic, Sparrow. But it only has to work for another minute._ / He positioned his feet, readying himself to move when the moment came.

Nearly every other stare in the room was fixed on the pirate's lissome movements. The blonde was ogling him hungrily, running a very pink tongue-tip along the edge of her teeth.

Jack gracefully bend one leg, slid off his shoe, spun it once on a fingertip before letting it fall. He made a sinuous half turn, curled the other leg, bared his other foot. Always with that come-hither smile, winking through a swaying curtain of dredlocks. Vrana leaned ever closer- a predator scenting a rare feast.

Sparrow ran sinuous hands over his revealed chest and sides, plucked teasingly at his waistband, hips swaying like a Lebanese dancer... but he noticed Kazimir was focused on a higher point. With a flash of insight, Jack realized what move the vampire would find most alluring. Jack lowered his face, curled his right arm over his head, trailed sensuous fingertips over cheekbone and jaw. Slowly gathering his hair to tuck behind his left ear. Suddenly he threw his head back and arched his neck, displaying the full, tender length of his naked throat.

The minions gasped. Vrana emitted a concupiscent snarl as he stood, fangs bared, eyes red and maddened. "I've made my choice..."

A whoosh of projectile splitting air- Kazimir's tearing screech rent the chamber. He pitched onto the dais, hot liquid spouting from his back as he thrashed, howling, staining the gold fabric to crimson.

Meredith, crouched in her cage, was glaring down the length of her just-fired crossbow. Jack had a brief absurd thought about scorned women.

Vrana's underlings yelled in dismay. They all swarmed, unthinking, to their stricken leader, except the dumbfounded lean guard. James abruptly ducked from his loosened grip, turned a somersault across the floor, came up with his hands before him. He swung manacled wrists against Bean Pole's jaw, knocking him aside.

Jack snatched up his shoe, grabbed out the key, pounced on his cage door. Freed, he sprang to the back wall, yanked down that dingy coat of arms, smashed it to release the swords. He threw one in James' direction- then the hairy brute was upon him, lunging to seize. Jack slashed ferociously to keep him back.

Norrington had scooped up the tossed weapon, was fighting both Bean Pole and Hatchet Face. Even chained, the ex-Commodore was lethal with a sword.

The ragged-haired woman cradled Kazimir's head, wailing "The Master! The Master!" Beside her, Goldilocks whipped a murderous glare at Mare. Snatching her spear to shoulder level, she charged the cage.

Next instant the place rang with a shrill feminine scream- not Mare's- ending in a loud thud of a body hitting the floor. Jack and James knew what confusion of ideas had just taken place: Goldilocks had thought Mare was out of bolts, and Mare thought she wasn't.

Seconds later she fired again- Jack's ursine opponent roared with pain, clutching at a bolt in his shoulder. Jack finished him with a stab through the heart- that injury was fatal to human and vampire alike.

Mare was doing fine where she was, so Sparrow focused on freeing James. The agile pirate ducked and dodged among the combatants, until, seeing his moment, he slammed the key to manacles. Norrington, suddenly two-handed, swung his sword back and rammed it through Bean Pole's chest. The man emitted no cry, just looked astonished as he toppled. As James took a second to wrench his blade free, Hatchet Face fiercely lunged at him with the spear- Norrington barely dodged in time. Hatchet Face wasn't as quick; Jack's weapon descended on the back of the neck, virtually decapitating him.

The ragged brunette suddenly fled the dais, launching herself wildly at James. He whirled to meet her, sword braced before him- she impaled herself through the ribs. The wench staggered back, keening in agony more mental than physical. The back stab Jack delivered was a mercy; she looked almost grateful as she fell, swords protruding fore and aft. Only the Operatives were left standing.

Norrington, iron-eyed, lifted Hatchet Face's dropped spear from the floor and turned to the one enemy who still moved. Kazimir, convulsing on the gore-splashed dais, stared back in helpless, red-hot fury. James closed in like a cruising shark- unhurried, inexorable, merciless.

Untargeted though he was, Jack shuddered at the sight. / _Theer's consequences ta be had fer threatenin' dire harm to the people a man loves most. Most especially when it's a man of Norrington's steel._ /

James had reached the dais. Gripping the spear with both hands, he raised it high overhead and brought it down, hard and fast. Vrana bellowed like a mortally wounded beast. James didn't respond; just tore the weapon free to stab again, and again. The animal shrieks gave way to wet gurgling; the pierced body moved only from the force of the penetrating blows; the rage-filled eyes glared at nothing.

There was no telling how many more times Norrington would have struck, if a familiar hand hadn't caught his elbow, a beloved voice breached his frenzy.

"James! It's over- Vrana is dead. We're safe now."

The navyman gasped, letting go of the crimson shaft, and spun to clutch his Meredith to him. She returned the embrace with equal fervor.

Sparrow, swiping perspiration and blood from his brow, noticed the single shoe in the left cage- the one from which Mare had removed her own key to free herself. A metallic clink told him she'd just used it to unlock James' remaining manacle. Sparrow bent to tug both swords out of the brunette's body, before approaching the entangled couple. Mare was nodding in answer to her husband's whispered question- no doubt confirming her 'delicate condition.'

"Sorry I jumped the gun tellin' him, lass."

"You're forgiven," Mare breathed.

Jack suddenly found himself captured by a strong arm and pulled close. James hugged them both against himself, bowing his own head in ardent thanksgiving. Sparrow arched a brow, but didn't protest. / _I'd guess yer relieved you didn't haveta make that horrendous decision. That would've weighed hard on yer conscience either way, wouldn't it?_ /

Uncounted seconds passed before the arms slacked and the three eased apart. For another long moment they gazed around the gory chamber with it's scattered bodies. There no trace of comeliness left to Kazimir; just staring hate-filled eyes and distorted blood-filled mouth.

Sparrow looked to the coal braziers. "These corpses are dangerous even dead. 'Twould be advisable ta burn this place down."

James nodded. "Then it's lucky this building is well removed from any others. You two wait here while I scout a route out."

Jack offered the Commodore his sword back. Norrington took it before heading out the door.

A sticky tug of blood under his bare sole reminded Jack of his underdressed state. He stepped to his former cage to retrieve his shed garments. Mare likewise fetched her missing shoe, solemnly regarding the slain enemies as she buttoned it up. Sparrow noted the way her eye lingered on Goldilocks and the bear.

"I suppose I'll always wonder how many of these were actually evil people, and which were just deluded fools."

"Might not be an important distinction, lass. If they weren't truly bad, they were well on their way ta becoming so. Lord Beckett had that effect on his subordinates." Jack was replacing his shirt, the red spatters on his torso promptly soaked through. "I know of only one bloke who undid the influence, an' he paid a similar price." Sparrow pointedly eyed Bean Pole's fatal chest wound.

"And the poor Countess. She'll be heartbroken either way- whether she thinks Count Vrana deserted her without a word, or confirms he lied to her with every breath."

Sparrow sat on the steps to replace his own shoes. "Even at that, she's better off now. If his past behavior's anything to go by, the egregious bastard would've killed her, or worse, the moment she ceased ta be a source of fundage. 'It's just good business.'"

Mare was eyeing the repulsive corpse sprawled on the dais- finally, an honest representation of the personality within. "If this really is the Cutler Beckett you and James knew, I wonder how he ended up in this time and situation?"

"Via a long contorted route, I shouldn't wonder." Fully shod, Jack got to his feet and joined her, adding his glower to hers. "Seems unlikely we'll ever learn the details. Not that I particularly want to. 'Tis far more important that we make sure it ends here."

"We are in accord, Mr. Sparrow."

There was a rush of approaching steps. Mare and Jack raised their weapons- but it was only James bounding back in.

"There doesn't appear to be anyone else in the building- I'd guess the entire Coven was attending the ceremony. And I've established the shortest route out: one flight up, right turn, then left. There's a horse and wagon tied beside the back stable."

"Then let's finish what we started," Mare pronounced.

Using the spears for leverage, they soon toppled the braziers to set the dismal tapestries ablaze. Flames quickly spread over the walls- orange reflections danced in pools of blood, and Vrana's baleful eyes. With a grimace of distaste, Mare tossed her crossbow back into the inferno as the three vacated the chamber.

Following James' route, they hastened upstairs and out of the mansion. It was wonderful to breath open air again. They wasted no time piling into the wagon; James took the reins and urged the scruffy horse down the driveway.

About halfway to the road, he pulled them to a halt. The three Operatives looked back- the mansion's lower windows were already glowing like furnaces. When the blaze reached the upper floors the neighbors would surely notice and call the fire brigade, but by then the basement would be destroyed.

Norrington reached to the side, hugging Mare against himself. As though he couldn't get enough reassurance that she, and their unborn child, were safe.

The horse whinnied, disturbed by the smell of smoke. In the back, Jack also fidgeted. "I vote fer returnin' to our hotel w' all due speed. We could all use a bath an' a full night's sleep."

James looked everyone over- himself as gore-spattered as an abattoir worker, Mare's gray dress besmirched from his embrace, Jack noticeably splotched. "First, we'd better find someplace to wash off. We certainly can't be seen like this!"

"Perhaps we could accidentally fall into the river?" Sparrow suggested. Mare pulled a face.

"That would be an advisable place to dispose of the swords. But I can think of a somewhat more sanitary alternative for ourselves." Norrington clicked to the brown horse. The animal willingly trotted down to the road, turning in the direction of City Center.

As the wagon clattered off, a bearded man stepped from behind one of the big lawn trees. He proceeded to follow the same route on foot, pausing under the street lamps to jot notes.

xxx

They couldn't risk being found with the wagon, which probably belonged to one of the slain minions. So they left the horse tethered to a public watering trough, in an alley not far from a certain Prague landmark.

Some while later, the three trudged into their hotel's opulent lobby- the men abashed, Mare beet-faced with rage, all three soaked to the skin. In answer to the night clerk's predictable inquiry, Meredith related that her donkey-brained husband and cousin-in-law had made a semi-inebriated wager, over whether they could circumnavigate the rim of the Triton Fountain without falling in. After they'd both lost the bet, she'd made the mistake of attempting to help them out, and the clumsy oafs had overbalanced and pulled her in too. She might overlook the damage to her dress, but it would be a long time before she forgave the facial bruise!

The clerk had been in the hotel business long enough to've heard similar tales, so simply offered to send their clothes out for laundering and repair. James paid for that service upfront, and for another night's stay, mentioning they'd probably be sleeping too late to take any breakfast.

Indeed, none of the Operatives rose until noon. After lunch they finally did go on a walking tour of Prague, visiting the sights at all five pentagon corners. The Charles Bridge- "the queen mother of foot bridges" Jack called it, lined with statues and commanding a panoramic view of the Vitava River. The Justicní Palác- not staggering as palaces went, but adjacent to the hilly green walkways of Petrin Park. Charles Square- showcase to the impressively spired Town Hall. Wenceslas Square (actually a long rectangle)- lined with impressive antique buildings, with the eponymous King charging forth on his equestrian statue. And the Old Jewish Cemetery- somber in a good way, now that it no longer concealed any threats. It felt cleansing to see all these places daylit and unsullied.

They had a fine celebrational dinner at a restaurant that stocked decent rum and exemplary sausages, walking back to their hotel well after dark. The nighttime streets no longer held any terrors for them.

But one afternoon was all they dared. Even innocuous activities like sightseeing carried some risk of accidentally changing historical events- the longer they stayed, the higher the likelihood.

So after breakfast next morning, Meredith visited the front desk to make arrangements for a coach out of the city (activating the timenet required an unpopulated spot.) As she turned from the counter, Mare glimpsed a recognizable face across the lobby; that same rust-bearded newspaper-reading tourist Jack had noticed at their first hotel. Come to think of it, that wasn't the only place she'd seen the guy. Mare pressed her lips, deciding this was something she needed to look into.

Gathering her verdant skirt, Mare strode directly up to the man's armchair. "Pardon me, sir, but I believe we're past due for an introduction."

The fellow looked up from his paper, mildly puzzled. "How so, Madame?"

"Over the past three days you've shown up in our vicinity several times. I don't think it's unreasonable for me to wonder about your motive for following us."

She was prepared for a barrage of denials, but the man just set his paper aside, bestowing his full attention over folded hands.

"I assure you, I intended no harm. I am a habitual observer of the unusual, so took interest when I first noticed you conversing with your workman associate. A well-bred woman and a day-laborer speaking as equals is hardly commonplace. An entirely unoffended husband joining their discussion is even less so. My hearing is exemplary, and I was most curious to know what you were talking about- I confess to listening in. What I overheard exceeded my most farfetched expectations. I have, indeed, been positioning myself in your vicinities ever since, to observe how your drama would unfold. But you need not be concerned about public exposure, Madame. I'm quite capable of keeping secrets."

To her surprise, Mare sensed the man was speaking with complete frankness. She regarded him even more closely. "Might I know who you are, sir?"

"A part-time writer, which is why I'm in Prague. I'm presently researching the folklore traditions of Eastern Europe. But my primary occupation is business manager of the Lyceum Theatre in London."

This revelation rang a distant bell... a reassuring one. "I see. Are you planning to write about the events you've just witnessed?"

"I'm inclined to. Though it will be a significantly altered account, and presented as fiction. No one would be likely to credit it as anything else." The man regarded Meredith with admiration. "I'll certainly include a character based upon yourself. Women with your mettle are a rarity."

Mare was unsure how to answer that. The man filled the interval by extracting a business card from an inner pocket, and handing it to her. "Consider this a token of my regard. I don't offer these to just anyone."

She took the card, giving it a good hard look. Then she meet his eyes with equal candor. "I think you should pursue this writing endeavor- you'll probably do well with it. Just call it a feeling." Mare tucked the card into her reticule. "I wish you the best of luck, sir. Good day!"

"To you as well, Madame." The man watched as Meredith crossed the lobby and disappeared up the staircase. "A remarkable woman."

xxx

"Theer's no mistakin' a newly expectant couple," muttered Jack, as the three made their way from the check-out desk. There was special solicitousness in James' manner, and a new blitheness in Mare's- not all of it due to her release from those bothersome costume supports. As they exited, Mare paused to give a friendly wave to a bearded fellow reading in a lobby chair. He bestowed a polite nod in return.

James frowned. "That looks very much like the man I was following near the cemetery."

Sparrow stole a glance. "Also bears resemblance to the bounder stayin' at out first hotel!"

"You're both correct, but it's all right- he's meant to know," Mare soothed. At their incredulous looks, she added, "I'll explain when we're in the cab."

She made them wait a little longer, not wanting to lose her last chance to view the City Center. Not until they'd trundled across the Vltava did she extract the business card from her reticule and hand it to the curious males. They ogled it simultaneously.

"Good lord!"

Jack slapped his knee. "Ha! So we've helped inspire yet another world-famous novel! Gratifying, hain't it?"

James shook his head. "It's certainly fortunate he has... that is, that he's going to present his work as fiction."

"He could hardly do otherwise- the public'd find anythin' else'd too disturbin'. Who'd want ta believe theer really are such nasty beasties lurkin' about?" asserted Sparrow.

"That's one aspect of this era I'm glad to leave behind. That and bustles," Mare added, with the vaguest shudder.

James placed an arm about her shoulders with special tenderness. "We'll be home soon, cinnabar. By the way; I really think you should consider going on lo-haz duty for a while." His other hand lightly patted her abdomen.

"No need to use heavy persuasion, James. I think the excitement from this Mission is going to last me a while." Mare's left hand settled atop his. "We've got double responsibility now, to a dog and a child!"

"I think we can manage it. Considering what we just accomplished..."

"Aye!" Jack turned to look out the carriage's rear window, smiling wistfully as the city's many spires receded into the distance. "Prague's been called the City of a Hundred Points. Could be said, we've successfully prevented it from acquiring a few too many."

xxx

Back at the hotel, the bearded man quietly folded his paper and returned to his room. Seating himself at the desk, he arranged his notebook, and several scribbled paper scraps, across the surface. He then removed a sheath of blank sheets from the drawer, dipped his pen and wrote across the first page:

_DRACULA_

_by Bram Stoker_

xxx

**THE END**


End file.
